Encounters of the Angelic kind
by AYoungLazyWriter
Summary: Metatron decides that he really doesn't need Castiel around, but he also doesn't want him dead because of reasons that defy this author, so he does what any reasonable crazed Scribe of God would do. He stashes the angel in another universe and then makes the big mistake of sending Gabriel there too. simultaneously giving Deidre a migraine. Oh and angels want them dead but no biggie
1. Misha Collins assaults an orange tree

**Hello my lovelies, returning readers, new readers, old fans, new fans, superwholockians, Supernaturalists, and people's who's lives have spiraled past the deepest pits of Tartarus itself, I bid you welcome to this story that has been brewing for a month now and that I have managed to actually for realsies finish.**

 **Now, I have worked hard on this, and lord knows how difficult it is to write a character with less than an hour of screen time in 10 seasons, but we can work through this. Some characters may appear OOC, some won't and some you'll be left wondering what the hell just happened. Bear with me. A project of this scale is big and showing you guys this is like me handing off my baby to complete strangers.**

 **This is set directly after the Fall of the angels in Sacrifice, season 8 episode finale.**

 **Also, Cursing. There will be cursing which is why this is rated T. Deidre has a potty mouth that would make Dean Winchester wince.**

…

 _pitter patter...pitter patter...pitter patter_

7:46 pm

It was raining outside.

Correction.

It was a biblical flood outside.

Deidre pulled back one of the curtains, to look outside, only to flinch when lightning flashed somewhere to her right. Thunder rolled overhead, shaking the ground and her house as it passed, not too far away from the lightning bolts. Water had already collected on the bricks and runoff from the higher parts of her small street was already flooding her front yard, but it would all flow to the bayou. She supposed it was one of the perks of living near a bayou. The water just flowed on through, without creating any dangerous floods.

 _Pitter...patter...pitter...patter..._

Lightning flashed again and Deidre caught a glimpse of a lightning bolt in the sky, before she closed the curtains. On any other given day, she would be watching television or on her laptop, but the risk of getting struck by lightning and damaging her electronics was too high. Instead, Deidre twirled her phone in her hands, as she looked around for something to do until the storm went away. She could draw that self portrait she'd been meaning to draw, but the sketchbook hid among various notebooks in her room and she didn't want to move.

"Stupid storm," she muttered, "having to come so early. Leaving me with nothing to do."

 _...pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter pitter patter..._

Frustrated, she placed her phone in her pocket and went into her room, well hers and her other three sisters' room. It was the largest room of the house, with two bunk beds on either side of the room, a dresser by the smaller bunk bed, a wardrobe full of school uniforms, a trophy case, a TV and it's stand which doubled as a bookshelf, DVD organizer and Xbox holder. The closet was a mess, left untouched for an entire month, but Deidre made a mental note to clean it...soon, but not now. At least it was better than her brother's room at least.

His room was the smallest, it was smaller than the bathroom even. His bed took up most of a wall, his dresser next to it taking most of the next wall, and the closet by the dresser. Next to the closet, for this was in the same wall, the door being between these two objects, was the TV and it's stand. The closet was a mess, filled with shoes her brother refused to part with, a basketball, and clothes. The top of the dresser was littered with toys, most of them space themed l egos, books directed at at both genders, some he stole from her bookshelf but would never admit, and a sock. Below the bed, was his backpack, assorted pieces of paper, a cable, shoes and some clothes. It also had the distinct smell that something had died there a long time ago.

Well, it used to smell like that until Deidre was left alone at home. His room was the first thing she cleaned since she planned on sleeping there rather than the bunk beds. After almost fifteen years of sleeping on them, a nice normal bed was complete heaven.

Her seven member family, Deidre included, were happy in their small three room house with only one bathroom. It meant everyone had to share and jump at the opportunity of food when it came. It also meant there were rarely any leftovers, but food tended to run out fast, especially during the summer. Of course, with only Deidre at home, it meant that food took a bit longer.

Her parents had taken her siblings on a retreat, paid for by their church, to to the woods for the entire summer. Deidre refused to be a part of it, feeling that a summer in the woods would be too much for her modern tastes. Deidre had another couple of months left to herself, writing letters to her parents who assured her they were fine and were assured that she had not died of starvation.

And then it happened.

Deidre had glanced out the window when something fell from the sky, crashing into her backyard, emitting a high pitched noise as it did, a bright light, red and fiery, like a fireball, or a meteor. Deidre averted her eyes from the bright light, wincing when she heard the crack of branches as whatever it was fell into her tree.

Thunder loomed over head, and the rain continued to pour, none the less disturbed by the falling object. It was almost funny, and somewhat ominous. Deidre pulled back the window to see whatever it was, but the tree was out of her line of sight. Heart hammering away, and palms sweating, Deidre grabbed her rain coat and boots, and a flashlight before opening the back door. Torrential rain and winds greeted her, pulling trees this way or that, and making an otherwise deafening noise. Tightening her coat around her and pulling on the hood, Deidre opened the door and stepped outside, making her way to the orange tree.

"Please don't be a murdering alien," she prayed, " _Please_ don't be a murdering alien."

She shone the flashlight on the tree, half expecting to see a space ship or a meteorite, but instead, the source made her flashlight fall to the ground.

"Oh my god," Deidre gasped as she ran forward.

A man lay on his side, among the broken limbs of her tree. He seemed human enough, if the trench coat and seemingly formal shoes were anything to go by. Deidre took a hesitant step forward and knelt down by the man, reaching out to touch him only to have him stir and groan. He was still alive, but whether that was a good thing or not, Deidre had yet to find out. Gasping, she retracted her hand and took a step back, but the man didn't wake up. Her heart hammered away at her throat, making it difficult to breath, but she forced herself to take control of her nerves. Nerves of steel, she assured herself.

 _Pitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatterpitterpatter_

Rain was falling faster, leaving Deidre at an impasse. If this humanoid figure _was_ a murdering alien, then Deidre was as good as dead, but she couldn't just leave the man outside in the rain, where he could catch pneumonia, because where would that leave her? With a dead body and those things stank and caused unnecessary questions. Taking a steadying breath. Deidre crouched down and wrapped her arms around the man's chest and heaved, dragging him towards the house. The stairs proved the be a bit of trouble, but Deidre managed it, earning herself a thorough soaking and sore arms once she placed the unconscious man on her parents' bed, since it was the closest to the back door.

Taking a steadying breath, exhaustion and anxiety never made anything easy, Deidre took a good look at her guest.

And her brain decided that it was simple done.

"Holy mother of fucks," she whispered, as she took a step closer.

Misha mother effing Collins, born Dmitri Tippens Krushnic, aged 40, lay unconscious on her bed, looking none the worse for wear. Despite the fact that the man fell on her orange tree, one with thorns might she add, the man didn't even have so much as a paper cut on him. Misha Collins. _Misha_. The actor didn't stir, and Deidre watching with fascination as the unconscious actor lay on the bed, looking seemingly peaceful despite the fact that he fell from the sky.

A sane person would have awakened him, but Deidre wondered if this had anything to do with the week old beans she found in the back of the fridge. She knew she shouldn't have eaten them. So she did what any reasonable person would do in her situation, and simple threw her hands up.

"Fuck it," she said as she walked towards her room, "I'll deal with it in the morning.

And so, that's how Deidre ended her day; with wet clothes in the laundry basket, dry pajamas consisting of a white tank top and shorts, and an actor sleeping in her parent's room.

Nothing remarkably interesting or out of the ordinary.

Maybe it was a bad case of food poisoning, Deidre wondered as she dozed off to sleep. Fate always had a way of screwing with her over the smallest things. This would all be a bad food poisoning dream. Deidre would learn her lesson and hope Fate would leave her alone.

Not that Fate cared, because Fate was a bitch and she was bored.

And so, that following morning, Deidre woke up to a very familiar face watching her curiously.

"Fuck."

 **...**

 **Edit: saw some mistakes. fixed it.**

 **review!**


	2. Castiel wants food and he wants it now

**Hello darlings. Have your lives spiraled deeper into the pits of Hades? No? Well, can't say I'm disappointed. Well, I'm sure most of you skipped this author's note and I don't blame you. I tend to be rather dull, don't I? Well, I to those who are reading this. Hello. Good to see you.**

 **Gabriel will poke his nose in sometime in the next chapter.**

 **And I suppose I should also go without saying that I do not in any way, shape or form, own supernatural. This is done purely for my own amusement and entertainment. Also it's to prove a point to myself, but what that point is remains to be seen.**

 **MAIL TIME:**

 **I'd-Rather-Be-A-Winchester: Thanks for the review! And yeah, but Deidre's got nerves of steel. Most of the time. She can survive sharing a roof with Misha Collins, or Not-Misha.**

 **Now that you have had my daily dose of sarcasm and sass, please move forward and enjoy your lives.**

…

" _You know," Metatron began as he paced the room, waving his blade Castiel's direction, "I think that keeping you here would cause me too much trouble. You'll just team up with those Winchesters of yours, and I've heard enough to know that's a bad_ bad _idea."_

" _Kill me then," Castiel said, glaring daggers in Metatron's direction._

 _He was strapped to a chair, graceless, and at Metatron's complete mercy. Not that this Angel of the Lord cared because he had just been betrayed, robbed and bound._

 _Metatron looked appalled, "Kill you? For what? No. no. no. Castiel. I won't kill you. I'll just be sending you somewhere so you won't be a problem for me. You'll be fine...maybe. Now you be a good little angel and don't cause any trouble._

 _With those final words, the Scribe placed to fingers on Castiel's forehead and the world went black._

…

Castiel woke with a start.

Metatron had lied and betrayed him. Stripped him off his grace, and cast him in...well, if Castiel had to guess, in a bedroom. An unfamiliar bedroom. And it was all completely silent. As much as Castiel tried, he could not hear the voices of the Heavenly Host. His hands gripped the bed sheets in anger, before he released them and set his feet on the ground. A mirror stood in front of him. Assorted perfumes and deodorants lay scattered in front of it, for the mirror was on top of a dresser. Castiel moved closer, inspecting himself for any injuries, but found none.

He shifted his arm and his blade slid effortlessly into his hand. At least Metatron had been kind enough to leave him his blade, else Castiel would have resorted to crude methods of defense. And so, armed and tense, Castiel explored his new surroundings. The house was small, with only one hall way, and four doors, one of which led to the bathroom. The others led to a large bedroom for four people, and a smaller bedroom meant for boys. He wondered if it was common for humans to specify certain rooms for certain genders.

This room was occupied. His host had curled up, back facing him, oblivious of his presence. Upon closer inspection, he determined his host was a young short haired woman, much younger than the brothers Winchester. He tilted his head as he studied her. She seemed human enough, but he could be wrong.

"Christo," he said, but the girl didn't flinch.

Not a demon then. A few words in Enochian determined she wasn't an angel. She could be human, but there were so many other creatures out there, he wasn't so sure.

"Fuck."

He frowned, his train of thought stopped as he glanced at the previously sleeping girl. She sat upright, staring at him in shock and disbelief, almost as if she couldn't believe he was standing in front of her. So Castiel did the only thing he could think of.

"You shouldn't curse," he chastised.

The girl gave him a strange look, before looking sheepish and gave him apologetic smile.

"Well excuse my potty mouth," she said with a hint of sarcasm, "But it's not everyday you wake up to the face of a famous actor...that sounded weird."

She trailed off, mumbling to herself. Castiel frowned. An actor? Is that what she thought he was? An actor? He vaguely remembered Dean telling him about his and Sam's adventure in a world where their lives were a television program. Could this be the same reality? Or a different one.

"Hey," the girl said, snapping him out of his thoughts again, "earth to Misha Collins. I know waking up in a strange house is a strange experience, but, come on. I didn't do anything illegal."

Castiel frowned. What did she call him. He must have voiced this out loud because the girl was now giving him a strange look.

"Misha," she repeated, "You know. You're name."

"I am Castiel."

She gave him what Dean would call a 'no shit, Sherlock' look, "In _Supernatural_. No need to tell me. Good job acting though. It's fantastic."

"I'm not Misha Collins," Castiel insisted.

Now the girl gave him a look of surprise, "Jesus. Did you hit your head harder than I thought? I mean, you looked fine when I dragged you in, but then again amnesia has no physical symptoms."

"No. I am not amnesiac," he said, slowly loosing his patience, "I was cast down by Metatron into this world. I'm from another reality."

At this the girl gave him a strange look.

"Listen, Mr. Collins," she began, but Castiel interrupted her.

"I am not Misha Collins," he stated, looking into the girl's eye's, "I haven't the faintest idea as to who that is. Metatron placed me here because he felt I would cause less trouble in an alternate world. It just so happens that what I consider to be reality, is nothing but a television program to you."

"So...It's like the French Mistake?" she asked. At Castiel's confused head tilt, she explained, "When Balthazar sent Sam and Dean to that other reality in season six."

"...Yes," Castiel said.

The girl, tilted her head, in thought, before sighing, "For the record, I still think you're nuts, but alright. If you firmly believe you're an angel of the lord, then I won't say anything. Name's Deidre."

Castiel glanced at the offered hand before shaking it. Deidre jumped out of bed, stretching as she did so. She untied her hair, attempted to tame it before tying it into a pony tail, and glanced at him, a curious expression on her face.

"So…," she said, "Are you hungry or do Angels of the Lord not eat?"

She was mocking him. On any other day, Castiel would have demanded respect, but his stomach was having none of that. It growled loudly, demanding food and demanding it now. Deidre raised and eyebrow at him, a small smirk playing on her lips before she motioned for Castiel to follow her.

"I'm gonna make something simple," She said, searching through the kitchen, "You okay with flour tortillas, eggs, and bacon with a cup of coffee?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

She scoffed, waving away his concern, "Pssh. Nah. It's not every day you wake up to the lovely face of an angel."

Was that a compliment? The way she spoke made Castiel question the compliment, if it was a compliment that is. He opted for the nod, and watched her cook.

His mouth watered as the smells of bacon and eggs filled his senses, and his stomach growled again. Surprising as it was, and new for that matter, Castiel wasn't all that surprised. A graceless angel was practically human, and his body would act like one. He only hoped Deidre would hurry in serving the food.

"Damn, Cas," she said sensing his impatience, "Chill. Food will be served in a minute."

An excruciatingly long minute.

"When was the last time you ate?" Deidre asked him.

"I believe it was when I helped the Winchesters hunt Famine," Castiel said.

Deidre's eyebrows shot up, "So...like..."

She trailed off trying to see how long that was. Castiel already knew the calculations.

"Almost four years," he finished.

Again her eyebrows shot up, turning over this information while she served him, placing the plate of food and cup of coffee on the table. Castiel thanked her before sitting down and then a new predicament presented himself. He was unsure of how to begin eating his food and Deidre had not supplied him with any utensils. A glance in Deidre's direction revealed that yes, his fingers were to be used to eat. He watched her as she ripped off a piece of the tortilla and used that to take a piece of egg before placing it in her mouth. She blushed when she caught him staring.

"Sorry," she said, "I can give you a fork if you want. I'm just used to using my fingers for this, uncivilized, I know, but why else would we evolve opposable thumbs if not to eat with them."

Castiel tilted his head, "It isn't uncivilized. Various cultures have different ways of eating. Chopsticks are no less civilized than forks or fingers."

She smiled, and Castiel turned his attention to his food. He mimicked Deidre, and chewed slowly, taking in the flavors he had previously been unable to take in. It was almost overwhelming, but delicious. Deidre watched him, as if waiting for his opinion.

"This is delicious," he commented, wiping his mouth and hands on a paper towel when he was done, "You are a talented cook."

At this she chuckled, "Aw, thanks Cas, but my mom's better at cooking than I am. You should try her enchiladas. Best in the entire country."

"Would she not be more concerned over the fact that there is a strange man in her home?" Castiel asked.

His host again waved her hand dismissively "Nah. She's somewhere in Michigan with the rest of the family on some retreat to get closer to God and that crap, no offense."

He shook his head, "None taken. It is not my place to dictate your beliefs. I believe those that do not follow religious beliefs do kindness to others out of their own heart rather than because of scripture."

"You're not bad for a fictional character," Deidre said, "I almost expected you to have a stick up your ass and begin ordering me around or something."

Castiel chuckled, "I have been told to, as you say, remove the stick from my ass, but you aren't...bad yourself. You are, in fact, taking this quite well considering to woke to a 'fictional' character."

"It's not exactly the craziest thing that's happened," Deidre said, "I mean, considering how you fell in this big fiery ball, I figured a fictional character turned real isn't the worse thing that could have happened to me." She sighed, leaning against her chair, "Still think all of this is nuts though. It's like straight out of a badly written fan fiction. It's almost like that one episode of Doctor who."

"Who?"

…

 **Not much of the funny factor considering Castiel is anything but. Any who, hope I did his character justice, and what do you think? Enjoy it? Hate it? Love it?**


	3. Wibbly Wobbly Spacey Wacey stuff

**I had a dream I was a vampire and the clan was going out to feat or something and I didn't want to. So I stayed behind at the hideout which was this big old house. And then I'm sitting in front of the Winchesters offering my help and stuff. Then Sam runs off and for some reason we know each other well enough were I call him Sammy, and Dean was very surprised so I'm guessing Dean didn't know. In the end I managed to survive and go to the beach with my family except I didn't trust the water and refused to let my sister get in it.**

 **Again I own nothing that relates to Supernatural. If I did, I'd bring back Charlie and Gabriel. Also Crowley wouldn't be frickING DEAD! I FRICKIN LIKED THE GUY FOR PETE'S SAKE! HE BETTER NOT STAY DEAD!**

 **Also, HAH! THAT'S WHAT YOU FRICKIN GET FOR YOUR MYSIGINISTIC VIEWS! GET DRAGGED BY YOUR OWN FANS! THE CAST DON'T CARE! IN YOUR FACE JEREMY CARVER!**

…

 **I have been told that extensive caps are unnecessary and laughing at Jeremy Carver is not nice.**

 **Carry on, my friends.**

…

 **another side note, hehe, sorry.**

 **This was originally going to be shorter, but then I decided that less than 1,500 words was not acceptable and added more, and then I couldn't stop. Not that you guys care.**

 **Starts directly after previous chapter.**

 **...**

Say what you will about Misha Collins, but the man was an absolute teddy bear. At least, that is, when he wasn't too busy trying to convince Deidre otherwise. Misha, or how he preferred to be called, _Castiel,_ currently sat on her couch, watching Doctor Who, after he expressed his confusion. Maybe he really was Castiel. It would explain how much he acted like the angel, too much like Castiel, and Deidre had been waiting for the moment he broke character. Because fiery ball of death or not, there was no way she had an honest to God angel in her roof.

She glanced again at possibly-not-Misha before stirring the rice one last time before placing the lid back on the pot. Maybe Misha had a paragliding accident and fell crashed into her orange tree. Yeah. While scrolling through Tumblr, she stopped, scrolling back up when a post caught her attention.

Misha Collins was hospitalized last night after collapsing on stage. He was currently in a hospital in s critical condition. Deidre blinked and glanced back at most-definitely- _not_ -Misha. He certainly seemed real enough and not on the verge of collapsing. She wondered if Misha would be alright and if this was Castiel's fault. She also wondered if she could get into the hospital with Castiel's help, but decided it was useless. Misha

"Well flip me over and call me a pancake," Deidre muttered.

 _When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains-_

"no matter how improbably must be the truth," Deidre finished, "Jesus Christ. I have an angel in my house." A wide grin appeared on her face. "Oh my god. I have an honest to God angel in my house."

She squealed, causing Castiel to glance at her with a worried expression.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

This only made her squeal louder especially since Castiel, frickin _Castiel_ , tilted his head in the adorable confused yet concerned way that had turned Ollie into a squealing mess. Not that Castiel knew, because as far as he was concerned, his host seemed to be having some sort of breakdown.

Was she alright? She most definitely was…. _NOT!_ Deidre backed away from the rice pot, covering her mouth as tears ran down her face, a grin, a painful one at that, but her mind was in another place. God help the poor sap that glimpses into the mind of one Deidre Cortez while she is fangirling.

Deidre, for Merlin's sake, you're acting like an overexcited fan girl. Control yourself before Castiel wonders if you're unhinged. Look at the poor sap, you're going to give him an aneurysm. Oh god he's _worried for me_.

Any mind reader in the vicinity would be rendered deaf withing the minute. Of course, Deidre managed to compose herself much to Castiel's relief, though the big grin refused to leave her face.

"Sorry," she said, taking deep breaths, "But...shit...I have a frickin angel in my house. And you're definitely not Misha because Misha is in a hospital somewhere after he collapsed."

Castiel seemed apologetic, "My apologies. I didn't realize-"

Deidre waved her hand again, "Eh. Don't beat yourself up. It's probably because the universe can't deal with two of you. Spacey-wacey stuff." She clapped her hands, mildly startling him, "Come on big guy. I'm sure you're hungry because my stomach is eating itself as we speak. You want water or soda? We have Coke, Pepsi, Dr. Pepper."

"Water is just fine," Castiel assured.

Deidre shrugged and placed a glass of water in front of Castiel before sitting down herself.

"So, Cas," she said nibbling on a chicken leg, "What are Sam and Dean like?"

Castiel thought for a moment, "They consider me their friend. Dean on occasion has said I am his best friend, and I feel inclined to agree. The Winchesters have been very kind to me despite my...shortcomings and I feel it would be wrong to not consider them friends."

A small 'aww' escaped Deidre, but she couldn't help it. Real life Castiel was a cinnamon roll to good for this world, too pure.

"Do you have anyone your best friend?" Castiel asked her, curious.

Deidre seemed a bit taken aback by the question, but answered it nonetheless, "Two people. One of them is my best friend since fifth grade, and the other was my friend in college, 'cept college friend is now girlfriend and soon to be fiancee."

"Congratulations," Castiel said.

And he meant it.

Deidre blushed, and looked at her plate, "Thanks. We're planning on a small wedding, though. Nothing too big."

And the conversation died. Deidre took a sip of her Dr. Pepper, finishing it off and crushed it. Castiel offered to wash the dishes, claiming Deidre had already enough, and who was Deidre to disagree?

"Hopefully you'll be able to meet her," Deidre said, "She's amazing. Like this one time-"

She paused when a knock came at the door. She frowned and glanced at Castiel, motioning for him to stay quiet and out of sight while she dealt with the unexpected visitor. Deidre took a deep breath, and went over what to say, all while hoping that it wasn't a family member. They'd most likely call the police and claim that the strange trench coated man was a pedophile or-

"Holy...mother...of...fucks..."

Richard Speight Jr managed to give her a smile before he collapsed, Deidre being the only thing between him and a destroyed face. A crime against humanity if Deidre ever saw one. Jesus Christ, the man was heavy. Deidre adjusted her grip on the unconscious man.

"Little help."

…

…

Deidre normally didn't hyperventilate. Heck the last time that happened was nearly five ears ago when she came out to her parents (it went better than she expected), but, the narrator says while holding up a finger, when an actor collapses on your front doorstep, nearly tumbling you over, and your angelic guest, the holy tax accountant, tells you it's his brother Gabriel, and _not_ the actor you've spent the last year researching, it's difficult not to hyperventilate. Most people would think you're nuts if you don't have some sort of reaction, even no reaction is some reaction.

So it honestly did not surprise Deidre one bit, when she staggered back, trying to control her irregular breathing while Castiel hovered over both of them, concerned. Gabriel – Deidre didn't even bother referring to him as Richard Speight Jr – had a few scrapes and bruises, well, many scrapes and bruises, judging by the red stain on his shirt.

Was she lightheaded? Yes, Deidre confirmed, she was, and the fact that an archangel lay on her couch, unconscious, was not helping things. And...Was Castiel trying to get her attention...yes. Yes he was.

"Look at me Deidre," Castiel said, taking Deidre's face between his hands, forcing her to look at him in the eye, "Breathe in slowly."

Had Deidre been not lesbian, she would have swooned, but her mind was working overdrive and the calming deep voice of Castiel, keeping her gaze from wandering anywhere, helped her cool down.

"Are you alright?" he asked her.

She nodded. Castiel believed her and turned to his brother, taking in the injuries before turning to Deidre.

"Where do you keep the first aid kit?" he asked.

"Bathroom. Under the sink," Deidre managed, counting her lack of stuttering a personal victory.

While the angel left to search for it, Deidre decided they would need water, and began searching for a rag and a deep enough bowl, but settled for a sauce pan, filling it with warm water before moving back to the couch that the archangel now occupied. Castiel returned with the first aid kit, took the rag from Deidre, and began cleaning around the wounds that still had fresh blood. Gabriel's face contorted into one of pain, his jaw locked while Castiel applied the rubbing alcohol, all while her own heart hammered away in her chest. The archangel looked like he had a fight with a meat grinder and lost, well an exaggeration, yes, but no less true.

"I need a needle," Castiel said looking through the first aid kit.

Deidre glanced at the fake flower pot and saw her mother's sewing kit. She brought it to Castiel who began to sew some of Gabriel's more deeper wounds.

"He needs a hospital," Deidre said, vaguely wondering if Gabriel's blood would be noticeable on the couch.

"It would cause too many unnecessary questions," Castiel said, "Besides, I heard that your hospitals tend to charge ridiculous amounts of money, and I doubt you would be able to pay it."

Touche. Deidre felt a bit hurt at Castiel's lack of faith in her money, but then again she doubted she'd have enough to cover Gabriel's medical bills. If he gets worse, I'll call an ambulance, Deidre decided mentally. Castiel cut the thread, and placed cotton and gauze over the wounds that didn't need to be sewed shut.

"He needs rest," Castiel said.

"Universe has the annoying habit of making everyone human," Deidre muttered, earning herself a small smile from Castiel.

"Yes," he agreed, "But Gabriel is strong and will pull through. You should rest as I am sure Gabriel's arrival has exhausted your energies."

"I'll be fine," Deidre replied, lying down on the couch.

She managed to doze off for a bit, before her phone began ringing. Cursing, Deidre answered without checking the ID.

"Swear to God someone better be dying for this to be important," she said through gritted teeth.

"Someone piss in your food or something?" the person on the other line asked in a clear English accent.

Deidre shot up, blushing, "Ollie? What's up?"

"I'm at the air port and none of my...familial relations are answering their phones. I think it has something to do with the fact that I egged their house last Halloween, but I can't be too sure."

"Airport? I thought you were with your family in Cornwall?"

"Bloody twat at the office can't keep himself together for a weekend. Broken leg apparently," Olivia replied in annoyance. "Bush intercontinental, darling. Think you can pick your girlfriend up?"

Deidre chuckled, "Course. Be there in half an hour."

"Thanks, love."

"Welcome... _*click*"_

Castiel glanced at Deidre with a confused expression. His host now stared at her phone with a blank expression, gears turning in her head.

"shit."

…

 **Well, darlings, you know the drill. How did you like it? I'm using this as practice for an actual book so please guys. Reviews really help me gauge how well received this is. Hate it? Love it? Wish something could change? Unhappy with something? Love a certain part? Want to see more?**

 **Review por favor**


	4. The lesbian, the archangel and the bacon

**GOOOOD MOORNING VIEEETNAAAAAAAMMMM!**

 **actually I have no idea if it even is morning in Vietnam and for all I know a Vietnamese person could be reading this at night or something besides this isn't even Vietnam I'm American**

 **Oh well. Any who, if you're one of those fuckers that went to the San Diego Comic Con, I shall see you there in five years. If you are one of those who couldn't go because your broke, hello, hi. Welcome to the club.**

 **I do not, to the extent of my knowledge, own Supernatural. This story is written for purely comedic and educational gain and I do not wish to earn money unless my readers are kind enough to donate a few thousand dollars to my worthy cause.**

 **...**

Deidre gripped the steering wheel tightly, trying to control her breath while her heart continued to throw itself against the ribcage. Was someone gripping her throat tight? That would be the anxiety.

Ollie cast Deidre a worried glance, one of many. Poor not so innocent Ollie, with her blonde hair, and perfect...perfectness, Deidre wondered if she unknowingly sold her soul to date the perfect person. Not that her parents cared because they wanted a big strong Mexican catholic man, not an English lesbian who's father could give Gordon Ramsey a run for his money.

"Dee," she said, "What's wrong?"

Deidre bit her lip, wondering how she could explain into words what happened. She took a deep breath, a shaky one if you must know. Ollie asked again, worried this time.

"Dee?"

Well, better late than never. Deidre began to pull into the small neighborhood, "Ollie. There's a..uh...well...I got some...guests at home."

"Guests?" she asked.

"Men," Deidre added, "Two of them...nothing happened. Don't worry. They're not strippers. It's better if I show you actually."

Castiel better be able to explain this because she wouldn't be able to. Ollie gave her one last glance and helped Deidre get the suitcase out of the car and up the stairs. She took the keys from Deidre's shaking hands and opened the door, dragging in the suitcase behind her.

"Try not to freak, okay Ollie?" Deidre pleaded as they searched for the light.

"Freak about what?"

And then Castiel froze.

"Deidre."

Both girls froze. Ollie's hand immediately went to Deidre's, and her breath hitched. The silhouetted figure approached them, and Ollie took a step back causing Deidre to step away. She turned on the lights, illuminating the figure.

"Holy...mother...of...shit..."

"Yeah," Deidre said wincing.

"That's..."

Castiel's eyes flickered between Deidre and Ollie in confusion. Deidre bit her lip and took a deep breath, her eyes flickering to the couch – to her disappointment it did have noticeable bloodstains. A certain archangel was missing from it.

"Castiel," Deidre said in her calmest voice, "This is Ollie. Ollie, this is Castiel. He's...one of the guests. Gabriel is-"

"Still unconscious. I moved him to your brother's room," Castiel said and stepped forward, extending his hand towards Ollie. "A pleasure to meet you, Ollie. Deidre has told me a lot about you."

Ollie shook his hand, albeit a bit shakily. She gazed in awe and shock when she determined that yes, that this was not real, and it was not a figment of her imagination or jet lag.

"Holy mother of-"

"I know," Deidre said.

"And you said Gabriel as in-"

"The archangel, yup."

"I need to sit down."

Castiel glanced at Olivia before glancing at Deidre again, "I will monitor Gabriel."

Deidre nodded, before glancing at Ollie. She sat down next to her warily. Neither spoke a word, so Deidre gently placed her head on her girlfriend's shoulder. Green eyes flickered to her, but Ollie didn't acknowledge Deidre.

After a while, she punched Deidre lightly on her arm with a smile, "Twat. You had me worried for a second."

Deidre glanced at her, confused, rubbing her arm.

"I thought that you had the CIA in your house or that someone was threatening you," Ollie explained before standing, "I want to see this Gabriel. I'm assuming he is injured, then? "

Ollie was a trained nurse and was working on becoming a pediatrician. It was one of the reasons Deidre brought her here, with her expertise, Gabriel would recover faster.

In her brother's room, Castiel had brought in a chair, and was watching Gabriel but he betrayed signs of exhaustion. Deidre patted his shoulder, causing him to look up. The archangel continued to sleep, his chest rising slowly, frowning every now and then, but he didn't wake.

"Dee," Ollie said taking out a pair of white gloves from her purse, "mind taking the virgin to the other room? I can take it form here."

Castiel seemed reluctant to leave Gabriel, but Deidre assured him Ollie knew what she was doing.

"Bet," Deidre said as she led him out, "In the morning, Gabriel will be as good as new. You should rest."

The angel cast another look at Gabriel, his abdomen now exposed as Ollie poked at his wounds gently, adjusting bandages and the like, before he left the room. Deidre placed a stack of clothes at the foot of the bed, leaving half for Castiel.

"They're my Dad's clothes," she said, "Had to pick the biggest and longest since he's like at least half a foot smaller than you. This is for you, and this," she lifted the stack in her arms, "are for Gabriel. If you need anything, ask Ollie. Her schedule's messed up because of England. Night Castiel."

"Good night Deidre."

…

There are two things Deidre enjoys waking up to. One, being Ollie's sleepy but smiling face, the other being breakfast in bed. The first half of these things were fulfilled when she woke up, but the second half...not so much. She almost jumped a foot in the air when she turned to see the smug face of one Richard Speight Jr, aged 44, commonly known for his role as Gabriel the archangel, formerly Loki the Trickster god. Gabriel laughed, taking a step back to give Deidre some space as Ollie also stirred awake.

"where's the fire?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Deidre fell back into her pillow, with a small groan. "Caaassss," she whined, "Control your formerly unconscious brother that I so graciously allowed to bloody my couch and soil my life."

"Aw kiddo," Gabriel said, placing a hand over his heart, "You wound me with your words."

Deidre wrapped her blanket tighter around herself, "Eat me."

"I would, but Ollie wouldn't appreciate it," Gabriel replied.

Deidre flipped him off before closing her eyes, much to Ollie's amusement. The blonde leaned forward, pressing her forehead against Deidre's.

"Come on, Dee," she coaxed, "I'm sure Gabriel didn't mean it, right Gabriel?"

The archangel shrugged, "Sure. Cas says that breakfast is ready."

Deidre turned around, looking at Gabriel's retreating form and then at Ollie, "Castiel can cook? You let the virgin cook?"

Ollie blinked then yawned, "He's still a virgin? Dean must be so disappointed."

Deidre stifled a yawn and climbed out of bed, Ollie following suit. Both girls had been in the habit of sharing a bed, usually a larger one, but twin beds worked as well. After stretching and massaging any sore limbs, the girls headed to the kitchen, bothering to only tame their unruly bed heads. Angels or no angels, they weren't changing into their day clothes until after twelve. Screw propriety.

And that's how Castiel saw the girls in thin tank tops, short shorts, and unruly hair – in Ollie's case – before he looked away, much to the girls' and Gabriel's amusement. Deidre could just imagine her mother if she walked in on them. Two girls, barely dressed or presentable, in the presence of two adult men, but, she thought, as if they'd try anything. Gabriel, despite his flaws, would never even think of harming a woman, and Castiel practically had a heart attack when Dean took him to a brothel.

"precious cinnamon roll too good for this world, too pure," Deidre muttered as she cut a whole in the middle of her pancake stack and filled it with syrup.

Ollie glanced at her.

"Castiel," Deidre said, "He's a precious cinnamon roll."

Gabriel snorted, Castiel blushed, and Ollie agreed.

"So Gabriel," Deidre said, "How did you end up in this hell hole I like to call home? Because last I checked, you were stone cold dead, at least according to season five and season ten wasn't all that clear."

Castiel nodded, turning his attention to Gabriel.

Gabriel shrugged, "It's a very long story."

Ollie and Deidre glanced at each other, "We've got time. Ollie doesn't have to go to work 'till around five. So enlighten us, oh great and mighty messenger of God."

the archangel narrowed his eyes, glancing between the girls and then at Castiel who was silent.

"We thought you were dead," Castiel said, "We mourned you."

"It was a lovely funeral," Gabriel said sarcastically, "Really enjoyed the whole leaving me to rot in a hotel thing, very...touching"

Fans mourned you, Deidre thought as she picked at the bacon. Who knew Castiel was such a good cook?

"So you faked your own death?" Ollie asked.

"Oh no. I was as dead as a doornail" Gabriel explained, "Lucifer really did kill me."

Deidre frowned, "Then who brought you back? Luci certainly didn't, and Raphael was too busy with a civil war against Castiel to do raise you if he could. No one else could have that sort of – oh… _Oh_."

"What?" Castiel and Ollie asked in unison.

"Metatron," Deidre said turning to Gabriel, "It was Metatron with the tablet he has that kind of power."

"Too much if you ask me," Gabriel added, "Thought I could do him a favor. Said no."

"What kind of favor?" Castiel asked.

"It's obvious isn't it?" Ollie asked turning to Castiel, "In season nine, and may the spoiler squad not hang me for this, but Metatron wants you to be the 'villain.' To rise up against him, fail to defeat him and then open heaven again, painting himself as a hero."

"But he knew that you'd never help him," Deidre continued, "So he used an illusion were Gabriel appears and says he'll be the leader of the angels to kick out Metatron-"

"Except you figure out it's an illusion," Ollie cuts in, "But you go up against Metatron in the end."

"But why bring you back?" Castiel asked, turning to Gabriel.

"Because he thought the real thing might do it," Gabriel answered.

"And since you're no one's bitch," Ollie said, "He dropped you off with the virgin."

Gabriel nodded, impressed with them. Deidre elbowed her girlfriend lightly, causing Ollie to shove her back in turn.

"Which now begs the question," Ollie said looking up, "How do we get you guys back home?"

…

 **Hmm...not sure about this one. Started out good, got a bit wonky in the end, probably because it got serious.**

 **Anyhow next chapter will be more fun.**

 **What do you guys think?**


	5. We have to a what now because of what?

**I need my sister. She's the only one who likes supernatural and I'm pretty sure my mom is mildly concerned as to why I always casually talk about the Devil and how he's such a child.**

 **Anyhow, have y'all read my other Supernatural story?**

 **...**

Research.

Deidre was an author by trade. Her unpublished masterpiece lay scattered among old notebooks, gathering dust until she bothered to go back and actually revise them. The things she did publish were poems, short stories and the occasional book review. The readers of the Houston Chronicle loved her, always asking for more.

To keep from offending the passionate, yet misguided feminist or the similarly misguided foolish man, Deidre did extensive research. The Victorian era? She could give you a typical Victorian's daily routine, down to the most common dish. The world's knowledge was at her fingertips, and she knew exactly where it was and how to use it.

So while Ollie made sure Gabriel didn't injure himself any further – apparently you aren't supposed to be active for long with those kinds of injuries – Deidre scoured the internet for anything that could help them. As she skimmed through a website regarding supposed Enochian spells (Castiel determined they were fakes), Deidre wondered if perhaps she should be looking for something else.

"You said that it would have indecipherable to us humans right?" she asked opening another page.

Castiel nodded, looking over her shoulder while she searched for undecipherable texts. Deidre opened a page containing a list of ten undecipherable texts.

"What about the Book of Soyga?" Deidre asked, and read aloud the description, "'It's from the Middle Ages. It's a treatise on magic and the paranormal that contains passages that have yet to be translated by scholars. Says the book is associated with John Dee, known to like supernatural stuff. In the 1500s, Dee was said to be in possession of one of the only copies of the book, and he supposedly became obsessed with unlocking its secrets, particularly a series of encrypted tables that Dee believed held the key to some kind of esoteric spiritual knowledge, but the book's unknown author had utilized a number of typographical tricks, including writing certain words backwards and encoding others in mathematical script. Dee became so fixated on cracking the codes that he even traveled to continental Europe in order to meet with a famous spiritual medium called Edward Kelley. Through Kelley, Dee claimed to have contacted the archangel Uriel, who he claimed told him that the book's origins dated back to the Garden of Eden.' Partially translated."

Gabriel skimmed through it, looking at the pages for the book, enlarging some to see it better, before he gave the laptop back to Deidre.

"That's the one," he said.

"Perfect," Ollie said, "So how do we get the book without breaking into Her Majesty's library?"

"Don't have to," Deidre said, "It's on loan at The American Museum of Natural History in NYC."

"New York," Ollie repeated, "You want to go halfway across the country to steal a book?"

"Borrowing," Gabriel corrected, "without asking."

"If it's any consolation," Castiel added, "we doubt it would have to leave the Museum. We only need one a spell from it."

Ollie looked at Deidre, "And you're agreeing to this?"

When Deidre said nothing, Olivia sighed, running a hand through her hair, "Might as well start getting the suitcases. We're going to need them."

"Whoa there," Gabriel said standing up, "Who said anything about we?"

"Well you aren't going out there on your own," Deidre said, "Paparazzi, rabid fan girls, reporters, and basically any danger known to famous actors."

"We are not famous actors," Castiel said, "If we simply explain the situation-"

"Cas, darling," Ollie said interrupting him, "You're adorable, but so incredibly thick. They don't care because as far as they're concerned, you are Misha Collins and that is Richard Speight, and you're supposed to be comatose."

Deidre glanced at Ollie before typing furiously on her laptop, and cursing, "Richard too? Found in his home a few hours before Misha, course leave it to Tumblr to focus on the bigger actor."

Ollie hummed in agreement and looked back at the angels, "Besides, I doubt Deidre would allow you to driver her car. She is rather protective of it."

"Then we'll steal it," Gabriel said.

"We'll tell the police," Ollie shot down, "My cousin is a sheriff, and of the best ones in the whole bloody force. You wouldn't last a day out there even if we allow you to take the car. You'd be spotted immediately by the vultures Americans call the press."

"Perhaps it is best," Castiel said, "They are more familiar with this world than we are."

The oldest being in the room opened his mouth to protest, but the girls had already left, Ollie to the garage to search for the elusive suitcases while Deidre had Castiel help her with bringing down the stairs to the attic to search for a cooler. He could have left them, found some way to get to New York City, but then again he couldn't leave Castiel where he could get himself killed. Gabriel knew that Metatron had sent his most loyal to hunt them down, and he doubted they were stripped of their power. Metatron would have prepared, to ensure his victory in a well thought out, yet ridiculously complicated plan.

Four hours later, the quartet found themselves packing everything in Deidre's small trunk. Thankfully the angels didn't require much clothing, being used to their own clothes, though the girls insisted for the sake of disguise. They had a harder time disguising Castiel so that he would not resemble Misha, but in the end they decided on sunglasses and a baseball cap for both angels.

"All right," Deidre said as she started the car, "Everyone took care of whatever business they had?" she looked at the angels who nodded. "Okay good. I'd rather not stop every three hours because one of you needs to pee."

"We'll be stopping by my parent's country house," Ollie added, "It's only about a day's from here, and I figured it'd be best to perform whatever spell we need to do there rather than a hotel room."

…

Let it be known that archangels make the worst backseat passengers.

It was about three hours into the drive, Houston long behind them, when Gabriel found himself to be completely and utterly bored. He was an archangel for God's sake! He was used to flying wherever he needed to, creating entertainment when he felt like it. He was most definitely not made for sitting in the backseat of a car on his way to New York city.

Whereas Castiel contented himself with the scenery and Ollie with whatever music she had on her phone, Gabriel found himself considering his chances of survival if he were to jump out of the car.

Deidre glanced at the rear view mirror, and said, "Gabriel, I swear to your Father that if you so much as look at this car wrong I will toss you into next week."

"That's not fair, kiddo," Gabriel protested.

"You're a bored trickster," Deidre pointed out, "And I've read enough stories to know that pranksters are dangerous when bored.

Two hours passed, with Gabriel trying to see how many letters of the alphabet he could find on the billboards, when Deidre pulled over to a gas station. Everyone piled out, and Deidre reminded them she wanted them back in the car in twenty.

"Yes, Mother," Gabriel said, walking into the gas station in search of a cavity inducing sweet.

Castiel chose to remain with Deidre, while Ollie promised to bring them some drinks and snacks. Gabriel took a large bag of M&Ms, those big bags that are filled with loose M&Ms that you usually find at Gas stations and not even a family of seven can finish, and followed Ollie to the cashier, who had found cookies, granola bars, and chips as well as Starbucks coffee.

"Long trip ahead of you?" the cashier asked.

"yeah," Ollie said without looking up while she searched for her card. Then she smacked her forehead, "Fuck. I forgot Deidre likes to eat Pringles when she's on a trip. Hold this for me, Gabriel" Ollie said handing her wallet to the archangel before dashing off to find the Pringles.

The cashier cast Gabriel a smile, who returned with a small smile of his own. Something was off.

"So where are you and your friend going?" the cashier asked non-nonchalantly.

"No where," Gabriel replied.

"You sure?" the cashier asked, "Visit a friend maybe? Trying to get home, or going to see family?"

"My family and I don't get along," Gabriel replied, with a hint of annoyance.

The cashier continued to talk, "Don't blame them. When things got bad, you turned tail and ran, not that it will happen here of course."

Before Gabriel could say anything, Ollie returned, holding the Pringles in hand. While they bought their things, Gabriel kept his eyes on the cashier who ignored him. As he gave them their purchases, Gabriel made his move, digging his blade into the cashier's heart, noting with satisfaction as light began to build up and pour out of the cashier's eyes and mouth before he fell back, limp.

"The hell did you do that for?" Ollie asked, eyes wide in horror.

"Metatron's men," Gabriel said placing his blade back in his coat.

He led Ollie out, keeping an eye out for anyone else, before he motioned for Deidre and Castiel to get in.

"We need to stop at a tattoo parlor," Gabriel said, looking behind him.

"What happened?" Castiel asked.

"He stabbed the cashier," Ollie said.

Deidre almost crashed the car when she heard that, and she turned to look at the archangel, "What?!"

"Eyes on the road, kiddo," Gabriel said, "And I didn't just kill a random guy. Metatron sent him, which means we need to keep out of sight, and that means wards."

"A tattoo," Deidre said, "You want us to get a tattoo?"

Ollie patted her shoulder, "It's for a good cause, Dee. It's not that bad."

Of course _she_ would say that considering she had a dragon tattoo spiraling across her back. Not to mention Ollie never had a crippling fear of needles or anything sharp. Deidre, on the other hand, she bit a nurse once when she was ten and that was just to prick her finger.

But she supposed it was better than death by angel blade. She doubted the show was exaggerating on how brutal angels tended to be. Enochian warding it is then. For a good cause, to keep herself a live, nothing much and she could always stop at an ice cream shop to reward herself for getting the tattoo. Yes. She could do this. She could do this.

…

She could _not_ do this.

The whir of the machine. The disgusting odor of human in the shady tattoo parlor. The tattoo artist who looked like he probably sold drugs on his free time. The other tattoo lady who seemed nice enough.

Nope. She could not move. Not even to look at Castiel who kept giving her concerned looks. Ollie lay on her stomach as the artist got to work on a patch on her back. The green dragon joined by Enochian symbols. Deidre was positive that Ollie was sleeping, and Gabriel...well Gabriel was chatting up his tattoo artist, oblivious to the pain, if he felt it.

After inspecting the tattoos to make sure they matched the ones on the paper, it was Deidre and Castiel's turn. Heart hammering away, Deidre stood gravitating towards Ollie who sat down in front of her, gently stroking her hair.

"Now don't move, okay?" the tattoo artist said, "You make sure she don't move."

Ollie kept talking to her, stroking her hair. You could focus on that, can't you Deidre? Yes you can. Ignore the whir of the machine and of the needle on your back. You are not in a tattoo parlor somewhere in Oklahoma.

Somehow she survived.

Ollie paid after Gabriel and Castiel made sure it was the exact symbols, which they were, thankfully.

This had better be worth it else heads would start rolling.

…

 **I have never gotten a tattoo, so if there are any of you who would like to give me a detailed account of getting your first tattoo I'd be eternally grateful.**

 **Anyhow, Review!**


	6. Liar Liar Mom on Fire

**Wow. I really need to get into a good writing schedule.**

 **I own nothing save for two rocks named Joe and Bucky and a glow in the dark stegosaurus skeleton named Steve. Joe and Bucky are together, and Steve is their overgrown spiky dog.**

 **I also uploaded new stories**

 **and I made a supernatural blog on tumblr**

 **carryonwaywardfan dot tumblr dot com**

 **...**

 **...**

Deidre lay down on her stomach, reveling in the heavenly change from stiff car seats. It had begun to get dark, and since neither of them were willing to drive in the middle of the night especially in unfamiliar territory – Deidre knew Texas roads, not Oklahoma roads- they stopped at a small motel by the side of the road. She took care to not aggravate her sore back as she tried to find a comfortable spot. Ollie didn't seem to notice as she stripped down to change into more comfortable clothes, deciding on a large t-shirt she had stolen from her brother, and climbed into bed with Deidre, wrapping an arm around her wast.

"Dee," Ollie murmured in her ear, "Can you take Feathers and get us some food?"

Ollie groaned, "Don't want to move."

"Come on," Ollie urged, "You'll get to stretch your legs and I know for a fact Feathers hates being cooped up."

Ollie sighed and began to roll off the bed, taking her jacket and Ollie's wallet as she did. She found Castiel and Gabriel sitting on the couch, watching a documentary on the declining population of Japan. The angels turned when they saw her.

"Ollie wants us to get food," she explained, "Castiel, you're okay staying here with Ollie, right?"

The former seraph nodded and returned his attention to the documentary. Gabriel, the ever energetic one, was already on his feet and at he door.

There was no need to take the car as the McDonald's by the motel was still open. It was only about a five minute, and Gabriel needed to stretch out his legs. As they waited for their turn, Deidre studied the menu, wondering what she should get Castiel.

"So this country house of Ollie's," Gabriel began, "How isolated is it?"

Deidre thought for a moment, "Not a lot of people come and visit if that's what you're wondering. There's a town about a couple of miles away. Ollie and I usually use it whenever we go on a road trip or if she takes me with her."

"Next customer please."

Deidre smiled brightly at the cashier and ordered for herself and Ollie before turning to Gabriel, realizing she still had no idea what Castiel would like.

"Gabe," Deidre said nudging Gabriel, "What does Cas like?"

"Cheeseburger," Gabriel answered and frowned, "Make that two and frappucino."

"No frappucino," Deidre said, "I'm not giving you caffeine. Make it a soda and I'll throw in some cookies."

"Deal," Gabriel smiled at the cashier who blushed.

Deidre payed and Gabriel went to choose his drink. Naturally, he chose the one with the unreasonable amount of sugar. Some of the customers were glanced their way, more specifically, in Gabriel's way. A small group of college students whispered excitedly while glancing at Gabriel, causing Deidre to face palm. Fans. Wonderful. At least she didn't bring Castiel, or there would have been a riot.

"Least it wasn't Jared or Jensen," Deidre said to herself.

"Say something, kiddo?" Gabriel asked, half eaten cookie in one hand, and drink in the other.

"Fans," Deidre explained, "I was saying that it's a good thing that it wasn't the Winchesters that crashed into my tree. There would have been a riot especially since they are more easily recognized. You can blend in easily, but Cas...well after the Mishapocalypse of 2013 let's just say that everyone who had internet in 2013 can recognize Misha's Castiel face."

When their order came, Deidre took them while Gabriel followed.

"Are you going to help me?" she asked as she adjusted the bags to get a better grip.

"Nope," Gabriel said cheerfully.

"Jerk."

Gabriel simply smirked as they walked out of the McDonald's, and began to make their way back to the motel. Deidre glanced back to see a man walking a few feet behind them and moved closer to Gabriel. Not that she was scared, not at all. It's just that she felt a lot safer knowing that there was an archangel right next to her if the guy tried anything.

Gabriel noticed, and pushed her against the wall once they passed a small alley, motioning her to stay quiet, while he held his blade close. Deidre nodded, closing her eyes to keep calm while Gabriel waited for their pursuer to pass their spot. She heard the sound of human against wall and opened her eyes to see Gabriel holding a man that was at least a head taller than he was against the wall, with a blade pressed against his neck. It would have been funny on TV, but as this was happening now and in front of her eyes, Deidre backed away from them. She did _not_ plan on dying tonight.

"Gabriel," the man said, "I'm surprised to find you here. Metatron said you would be here, and I didn't believe Nathaniel when he spotted you among the humans, and yet here you are."

"Get to the point, Eremiel," Gabriel demanded, pressing the blade closer.

Eremiel frowned, "Your grace is bound, brother. You are practically human and yet you are able to recognize me. How?"

Now that she thought about it, Deidre noticed how despite his wounds, the archangel moved with ease. She frowned.

"Magic," Gabriel smirked, "Now tell me why you are here."

"Release me brother, and I will tell you," Eremiel said, but Gabriel did no such thing. Eremiel's eyes flickered to Deidre, causing Gabriel to demand his attention again. The angel scowled, and said, "I am searching for the traitor, brother. Castiel. He has been spotted with you and Metatron wants his head, and I only wished to kill Castiel and leave you and your human companions in peace."

"How did you find us?" Gabriel asked, "We're warded."

"You are," Eremiel said, "We had to depend on more human methods to find you."

Deidre smacked her forehead, cursing. Both Eremiel and Gabriel turned to her, both with similar looks of confusion.

"The fans," she said, "They're using the fans to find you. Tumblr. Twitter. Facebook. Instagram. Snapchat. It's perfect for tracking down people and Supernatural fans are anything if not resourceful. We can recognize an actor just by looking at his forehead."

Eremiel nodded, "Yes. We found images of you on what the humans call Instagram."

They'll have to wear disguises. Great. Deidre looked behind her to see a squad car pull up, and cursed when a police officer walked out. Please don't come over here...please don't come over here…

"Hey! Is there a problem?"

Gabriel's attention snapped to the police officer and Eremiel used that as his distraction and kicked the archangel off of him before lunging towards him, keeping a firm grip on the Gabriel's blade. The officer ran forward, but Deidre grabbed his elbow. The angel's will kill him if he got close.

"Ma'am," the officer said, "What do you think you're doing?"

Deidre opened her mouth, and noticed her throat decided to malfunction. She glanced at the angels, eyes widening when Eremiel got the upper hand as he tried to push the archangel's blade towards Gabriel despite Gabriel's attempts to stop him.

"Please forgive me for this, brother," Eremiel said as he began to force the blade closer towards Gabriel's chest.

No. No. No. no. no. no.

"Sir put down the knife," The officer demanded, gun in hand as he pointed it at Eremiel, who ignored him.

"Not a good idea, officer," Deidre said as she began to back away, still clutching the McDonald's bag. Gabriel's drink had been left by the dumpster, now forgotten.

And the most idiotic idea to ever be conceived by anyone appeared to Deidre. Knowing full well she would regret this and think about how stupid this was for years to come, Deidre took the formerly forgotten drink and threw it towards Eremiel, effectively hitting him on the head and catching his attention. The split second was all Gabriel needed to push off Eremiel and sink his blade into the angel.

"Should have kept your distance, bro," Gabriel said as he twisted the knife.

White light appeared from the wound and began to build up towards Eremiel's face before a blinding light erupted from his mouth and eyes. An angel death. Television always downplayed the effect an angel death had. When one enters a morgue, they feel death, but it's not oppressive, merely there, a sign that someone had left this plane. An angel death, while similar, is most definitely oppressive. Deidre could feel it, death, sadness, grief. She would have cried had the officer beside her not ordered Gabriel to put his hands where he could see them.

"Dude," Deidre cried out, "That was clearly self defense! Eremiel almost killed him! Quite frankly I'm surprised how you managed to go up against a frickin angel. You're practically human…right?"

He had to be right? No way he wasn't bleeding under all those clothes. He had to have pulled some stitches, and be in agonizing pain, not standing upright whilst stowing away his and Eremiel's blades. Not to mention his clothes were not suspiciously dry and clean.

Gabriel simply waggled his eyebrows and smirked before turning his attention to the officer.

"Listen, buddy," he said cheerfully, "I don't want any trouble. I've got enough on my plate keeping three people alive just to soil good Richard Speight's name over the death of a misguided angel that may or may not have been sent by a very crazy and more misguided angel that may or may not have been the Scribe of my very absent but surprisingly loved Dad."

"Sir just put your hands in the air," the officer said, his voice breaking slightly.

Deidre glanced at Gabriel who stepped away from Eremiel, tilting his head slightly as he studied the officer.

"Jack Newman, right?" Gabriel asked.

Both Deidre and Officer Jack looked taken aback. The officer looked at Deidre in confusion, but she shrugged, looking just as confused as he was.

"How- How did you know that?" Officer Jack asked.

"Oh I know a lot of things, Jack," Gabriel said, "But right now, I am on a very tight schedule so I'm really sorry for this."

"What are you going to do?" Jack asked taking a step back.

Gabriel said nothing and snapped his fingers. The officer collapsed to the ground, and would have been mistaken for a corpse had he not been snoring.

"Leave him," Gabriel said as he resumed his walk towards the hotel.

Deidre followed him though she kept looking at Gabriel suspiciously.

"What was that?" she asked him.

"Nothing," Gabriel said, tapping his foot impatiently for the elevator to arrive.

Deidre scoffed, "Nothing?! Dude, you just snapped your fingers and put a guy to sleep. You went toe to toe against an angel and I know for a fact that they're difficult to beat in a fist fight. You got your grace back right? Wait...no...no you didn't. Grace doesn't work here, but that angel, Eremiel, he had grace right? But you said you didn't have any."

"He was warded," Gabriel explained, "Metatron warded him so this reality wouldn't affect his grace. And I _never_ said I didn't have my grace."

"Fucking Jesus Christ," Deidre exclaimed as she walked into the room.

Ollie looked at her with a frown. She seemed to have been in the middle of explaining to Castiel something that apparently had to do with toothbrushes, a conversation now forgotten when she caught sight of the McDonald's bag.

"Sweet Paradise in heaven," Ollie said lifting her burger up to her nose.

Deidre made a face of pure disgust and stuffed more fries into her mouth.

"You were gone for quite a while," Castiel noted.

"Had a run in with another of Metatron's followers," Deidre said. "And this guy," she pointed a finger at Gabriel, "Has some explaining to do."

Everyone looked at Gabriel who shot a glare in Deidre's direction.

"Explain what?" Castiel asked looking between Gabriel and Deidre.

Gabriel looked at each of them and sighed, "I may have left out the part where I have some of my abilities."

"Grace?" Ollie guessed.

"Pagan magic," Gabriel corrected.

Ollie placed her burger down, frowning.

"Okay," She said, "Start from the beginning."

…

 **I'm just going to leave this here, don't feel like writing more until next week...or this Friday...or later this day…**

 **Plot Bunnies are attacking me. I got this idea to have one of the angels be like this guardian angel for an OC based on this tumblr post I saw. Might be Gabriel. Might be Michael. Rocks are funnies than Raphael. Might make it a series of one shots and title it "Glorified Babysitting" or "The rules of Guardian Angelship" and it will explore societal issues, random word prompts, ideas, and basically all of that one shot AU stuff.**

 **What do you guys think? Got any ideas? And how did you like this chapter?**


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